The Touch of Fire
by Rowin
Summary: Modern High School setting. Christine is one of the obnoxious populars and Erik is a misfit. She's failing and he tutors. Ch. 8 is up. Please R&R.
1. Prologue

The Prologue has been revised. Other chapters will be up-dated as well.

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That voice calls to me again. "Erik?" Who was that?

This time it sounds annoyed "_Erik_?" My eyes turn from the window and focus on the therapist. Ah, so that is where it's coming from, Dr. Gordon. He was given my case about two months after I recovered from the last operation. I have been seeing him for about a month.

"Erik you can't always tune me out," Wanna a bet I think to myself. "I'm just trying to help you." He smiles at me but he doesn't mean it; I can tell.

"You can't help me." I say in a calm voice. He looks at me for a second and then takes down a few notes.

"What makes you say that Erik?" He asks in a concerned voice.

I'm agitated with his questions, "Forget it."

"All right then. Let's go back to the subject that I was asking you about before you tuned me out." I look past his baldhead, to glance at his different degrees and certificates.

"Erik can you look at me please?" Again I force my eyes on him.

"Now as I was saying, how do you feel about what has happened to you?" I take a glimpse at my fingers or _what's left of them_. They were still wrapped in bandages. The doctors removed the first digit of each of my fingers and toes. Which means I have no nails or fingertips. I'm angry now; I can feel it in me.

"I'm fourteen years old, I have _no one_ who wants me, my p-parents tortured me every god dam d-day," I rise from the leather chair, wobbling a little bit but I manage to stand. "And on top of that they decide to set me fire! How the _fuck_ do you think I feel!" The outburst has taken a lot out of me. I collapse back into the chair, which is a mistake since it sends a stinging senation through out my back and shoulders. The nurses wont be happy, I think I may tore open a couple of the welts on my back; the ones that the fire _didn't erase_.

He furiously scribbles more notes down onto his pad. He'll probably prescribe some other medication. God knows how many painkillers they have me on. One more isn't going to kill me..._ unfortunatly_.

"Your anger is understandable. How would you feel when your parents would abuse you?" I wasn't expecting this. My breathing becomes strained and my hands start to shake, I didn't want him see this so I shoved them in my lap.

"I…I d-don't want to-o talk them." Every time I think about them my speech impediment starts up.

"Erik, you can't avoid me or this discussion any longer. I need to analyze you."

"Why?" I asked in a low whisper.

He sighed heavily, "The adoption agency wants to know if you're suitable for adoption. So please try to answer the questions as best you can."

I am bewildered at this point. How can he ask me to speak of the past? I've just started to block things out. _Out sight, out of mind..._

"Do you think anyone would want me?" I inquire hopefully.

"Sometimes there are cases where children in your sort of position have been taken in." As he says this I look into eyes and see that there is no chance for me. What little hope I had left is crushed.

My voice is like ice when I speak again, "No one wants to keep a damaged child."

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Copyright © 2008 A. Ibarra All Rights Reserved


	2. I

Thank you LiTTleLoTTe1991, -Bellamyy-, Araiona Dubois, logan41, Phantom'sJediBandieGirl, thank you for your kind reviews. This is from Christine's POV. I do not own The Phantom. This takes place 4 years later after Erik was burned.

It's the first day of school and I feel great, surprisingly. This is a new school that I was starting, but really, they're all the same. This is the way the caste system is for every school; First the popular kids (cheerleaders, jocks, or just cool people), next in line are the preppies, those teens that were part of the school counsel and into that whole school spirit crap.

Then there are the rebels. Those were the ones who just had to stand against the normal and accepted things in life. After them are the "Goths", "Gangstas" and "Punks". These three groups each have a unique style of their very own. My aunt thinks they dress like its always Halloween. After them of course come the nerds, geeks and dorks.

The last on the list are the misfit's aka rejects, losers and freaks. These people are known as the untouchables. Believe you me, you never want to be caught dead with one of those. It's better to hang out with a dork than a reject.

I, thank God, am part of the top. The elite.

"Christine sweetie, come on your going to be late!" My Aunt Charlotte shouts from the downstairs center hall.

"Coming!" I call back to her. I shut off my TV and I take one last look in my full-length mirror to make sure every thing is in place. I straightened my long chestnut brown hair. I smooth out my short, light blue, denim skirt. Aunt Charlotte hassles me about my clothes. She says their too revealing. This skirt however, is only seven inches above the knee - and looks really cute on me. My new pink blouse, which is just a bit snug, is absolutely fantastic! I slip on my toe ring and white flip-flops. I open my bedroom door, going out onto the landing and trot down the circular stairway.

"Hurry! You don't want to be late on the first day." My Aunt than hands me my lunch. I'm bagging it of course! Who knows what the lunches are like at a new school! I give

her a kiss on the cheek and start to leave.

"You're not going to eat any breakfast?" She asks. I turn back and look at her.

"If I eat now I'm gonna be late for school." I say back to her. She sees the logic in this and decides not to comment further.

"All right, but tomorrow you have to eat breakfast, Okay?" I nod a yes. "Besides I can't send you off to school with an empty belly."

"Ok, I promise I'll eat something tomorrow."

I quickly walk down the center hall carpet, passing the great room, which leads to the double front door. I put my lunch into my pink and black Nike backpack and dash out the door. I walk over to the stone driveway and get into my silver 2005 Honda Civic.

The day before I drove to the school, so I wouldn't get lost. The school is about two miles from my house. There was some was some traffic but it wasn't that bad.

I pulled into the student parking lot and got out. Groups of people were standing by their cars; either smoking, talking, or doing both. Some of them looked at me but then went back to their conversations.

I walk up to one of the boys who has a nice build. "Hi, do you where the main office is?"

He turns around - and oh my God he is so cute! "Yeah, once you go through those doors over there," he said pointing, "you make a left and go straight until you're almost at the main entrance. The office will be on your right."

"Thanks." I turn to go just he calls me over.

"Hey, wait what's your name?" He smiles at me.

"Christine D. What's yours?" I can't help but to smile back at him.

"Billy Jacobs. So your new."

"Yeah."

"Where you from?" I didn't get to answer him because a red BMW convertible sped in and stopped with a screeched. We both turned to look at who had just come in.

"Hey Billy!" The girl squealed. My eyes glance over at him and a sly smile spreads out over his lips. 'Girlfriend' immediately comes to my mind. There are four other girls with her. They all get out and walk over to where Billy and I are standing.

The girl who had shouted out to Billy, wrapped her arms around his neck. "Hey baby…" Billy whispered as he slipped his hands lower and lower until they were nearly resting on her ass. Then they kissed for about thirty seconds.

"…Oh, yeah, um …this is Christine."

"I'm Carlotta." She flips her long auburn hair from her smooth, bared shoulders. She has on a metallic green, strapless tank top, silver hooped earrings and tight kaki capris. "I haven't seen you around before. Are you a senior?"

"Yes, I am but I'm also new."

"Oh, that's why. 'Cause I was like, 'Who is that?'." Carlotta laughed; her teeth looked as if they were just bleached. The rest of the girls with her laughed too.

"So where are you from?"

"New York City." I stated simply.

"Oh, my God! I love New York!"

"Yeah, it's great there."

"Hey, why don't you sit with us at lunch?" Carlotta invited.

"Ok, that'll be great." I accepted. She was obviously someone of importance in the school. I mean she has like her own freaking entourage.

"Yeah, well I have to go and get my schedule."

"Cool, than I guess we'll see you at lunch."

"See ya then."

Wonderful, I think to myself as walk through the side entrance. I just scored a seat with someone cool! My day couldn't get any better.

Copyright © 2005 A. Ibarra All Rights Reserved

Please review. Chapter three soon to come.


	3. II

This is from Erik's POV. Please enjoy.

I don't own The Phantom.

Beethoven ends sadly, as I turn off the car. I pull the key out of the ignition, reach for my two year old canvas backpack and step out of the car. I shut the door of the Mazda and press the remote lock on the key chain.

"Boop - boop." Is the response I receive.

I park two blocks away so they won't do anything to my car like they did last year. I trek up to the school.

Instead of cutting through the student parking lot, I avoid it completely. I walk around to the front. I can't help but notice people staring at me.

It's not even first period yet and I'm getting _looks_ from these kids. Ignoring is one the ways that I deal with the stares and comments. Just ignore them and they'll leave you alone

_Well, most of the time they do._

I walk through the main entrance and make my way over to my locker. The hallways are clogged with students and teachers. They desperately try to avoid bumping into me.

Then crash! I wasn't paying attention to where I was going and just collided into some girl! She has on pink top and a short, _short_ skirt. Her hair is a dark drown that hangs down striate down.

"Watch it!" The girl shouts. When she looks up at me she is startled to see the mask. She recovers from the shock and shoves past me muttering something about how_ I'm_ stupid.

I ignore her as I continue to my locker. I hunch my shoulders a little as I slip my hands out of my gray sweat jacket sleeves. I turn the knob until it reaches the correct digits. I lift the small handle and open the locker. Dust and a little spider greet me. I guess the custodians didn't bother cleaning the lockers. I put my cell phone and sketchbook in it and close it up again.

I pull out a crumpled piece of paper that is my schedule. My first class is Shakespearian Lit. in room 203 and the teacher is Miss Ross. Walking over to the nearest stairwell I climb up the stairs. I make a left when I reach the second level. I scan over the room numbers as I pass by. Aha, 203. I cautiously peek my head in to take a look around.

_Yes_… no one else is here. _Good_.

There is a woman with her back turned toward the doorway. She's shuffling some paper around. She turns and is a little surprised to see me.

"Oh! Sorry I didn't see you there." She hides her shock from the mask well. She probably saw me around last year. "Hi! What's your name?" Miss Ross asks as she picks up the chart with all the students names.

"Erik Devereux." My voice is quiet.

Her eyes scan the sheet. "Ok… Here you are." She's findes my name on the list. "Are you French?"

"Excuse me?" I sound somewhat annoyed.

"Your parents… are they French?"

_Parents_. Not a simple subject.

My teeth are clenched now. "Yes, they are but they were born here." Worry passes through her eyes; she was not expecting me to say it that way.

"All right… well, you can sit any where you want." She says trying to smile.

I walk carefully between the desks and take seat in the back row. I take a notebook out of my backpack and wait. A few more students walk in. They are both holding hands. Miss Ross is more at ease with them then she was with me. She asks them their names and tells them to sit anywhere they want. They look over at me and sit closer to the front. The boy glances back at me and turns around again. They proceed to talk about me as if I'm not even here. I pretend not to hear them.

Instead, I think of the girl that I bumped into. Her eyes… I think of her eyes. They were a bright blue. She was rather beautiful. Her hair looked soft, full lips and her smooth skin…

_Stop it!_

I look up from my desk and see most of the desks full but I notice how the desks on the right, left and the one in front of me are empty. The movement by the door catches my eye. The girl from the hallway is standing there.

"Hi, what's your name?" Asked Miss Ross.

"Christine Daae." Her voice sounds nice when she's not mumbling. Again, Miss. Ross, checks the chart and tells her to take a seat. Christine takes a quick glance around and sees me. The only desks that are not occupied are the ones next to me.

"Excuse me, but there are no seats left." She says with a flip of her hair.

Miss. Ross looks, "Sure there are. You can have the seat in front of…um, Erik. That's it, right Erik?" She asks me. I nod my head and watch Christine walk between the desks. The other girls give her a sympathetic look, as she gets closer. She sits down with huff. The bell rings for class to begin.

"Well, welcome everyone! I'm Miss. Ross. This is your senior year and your probably thinking you can just blow this off this class. Wrong! You need four years of English in order to get out of high school, so if you fail it your going for another round next year." The whole time she has this little smile on face.

"In Shakespearian Liturature we will study the time period and read the works of Shakespeare. I don't give a lot of homework but you'll have lots of projects. Some will be done individually and some with a partner..." When she says this people make eye contact and smile at the person whom they would partner up with. "…And one more thing, I assign your partners for you." Some of the people groan when this comes out.

"I hope none of you are shy," Miss Ross continues. _Shit_, here it comes. "Because you will be acting out some of the scenes we will be studying! So in order to break the ice of the first day, I want each of you come up to the front and tell us little bit about yourself."

_Fuck!_ That's _all_ I need.

She picks some boy with a green t-shirt on. Sixteen more go up before she calls Christine up. She walks up to the front with ease and grace as if she's done it a million times.

"I'm Christine Daae and I recently moved here from New York with my Aunt. My hobbies are dancing and hanging out with friends." Her smile reveals straight white teeth. She comes back to her seat.

"Thank you Christine. Um… Erik you haven't gone yet." She makes it sound so simple.

I'm the last one to go. I hate being last. All eyes are on me. I shove my hands deeper into my pockets. Don't stutter, don't stutter and don't think of _them._

All their eyes are on the mask. I hope none of them can tell I'm wearing a wig. "My name is Erik. I like to… um read and listen to music." There it's done. I breathe a sigh of relief. As I finally walk over to my seat, one of the boys sticks his foot out. I trip but catch myself on Christine's desk. The whole class laughs. _Crap_ she is staring at my hands. She has this _yuck_ look all over her face.

Miss. Ross shouts, "Hey! That's enough! Erik are you ok?"

I quickly stand and nod a yes to Miss. Ross. The bell rings and everyone starts to leave.

"Sorry," I move to my. "I didn't m-mean to fall on your-"

She stands quickly. "What ever! Just stay away from me _freak_."

Copyright © 2009 A. Ibarra All Rights Reserved

Ch. 8 is up.


	4. III

This is still from Erik's POV. Please Enjoy.

I don't own _The Phantom._

_>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>_

… I got out of her out way when she said this. She left in a hurry. The last thing I needed was to get in trouble with the school authorities. I bend over to grab my backpack, I sling it over my shoulder and I look at my schedule.

Calculus is next. Room 132. I'm pretty sure that's downstairs of the left side of the building. I continue on my way with my head ducked down. The hair from the wig falls into my eyes. I don't bother pushing it back. I don't want anyone to see my hands. I always wear a size or two larger in long sleeve shirts and jackets so the sleeves will cover my hands.

Oh good, I was right! Room 132 is down here. Again, I'm cautious when I walk in. This time though there are more people in the room before me. Most of them stop what they're doing and look at me. I hunch my shoulders and make my way over to the back. I sit with a sigh. From my corner of the room I can see everyone…Christine! She's in my Calculus! I hope the teacher won't put us next to each other… I don't think she'll appreciate it.

_No one does._

The bell rings but the chitchat continues.

"Hello! The bell just rang and that means class is in session!" This little man shouts from his desk. He gets up and walks to the front of the room. This guy has got to be at only five foot tall.

"Look, I'll say your names and you just say, "Here!" Got it!"

I don't like him; he yells way too much.

I barley have time to say, "Here". He goes through our names in record timing.

"All right, my name is Mr. Sark and I don't take any bullshit!"

Wow that was unexpected.

He continues, "Just because you're seniors doesn't mean you can do whatever the hell you want!"

"I give a lot of homework and I expect you to do it!" This Mr. Sark guy has definite Napoleon syndrome. "Homework … and class participation are thirty percent of your grade. Tests and quizzes are seventy percent. This is a challenging class but I expect you to do the work. If your having problems you can always come to me for help…" Oh yeah I'm sure _everyone_ will go to _you_ for help. "…But if I see that you're screwing around and it's the day before a test, if you come in for help, I will turn you out! I'm not going to re-teach you everything because you messed up!"

"Now, does anyone have any questions?"

This man is nuts to think anyone is going ask questions after his whole little tirade.

"No questions…? Good! There are books under your desks. Show me what you retained from last year. Open to page 155, do problems 1-50 and I want to see the work! If I see people talking instead of doing their work, then that person will have detention with me after school. Got it!"

Man this guy is an _asshole._ Twenty-seven minutes are left in the period. I quickly pull out a pencil and notebook. I flip through the pages and land on page 155. I scan over the equations. This is going to be easy.

As I do my work, I hear people asking him for help. Five minutes go by and I'm on number fifteen. Seven more minutes pass as I finish number thirty-five. Another ten and I'm done! This is way to easy. I close the book and take a glance at the clock. Five minutes left and I'm done!

A shadow covers my desk. "Hey, why is your book closed?" Mr. Sark asks.

He's not going to believe this. "I'm finished with the work."

"You showed your work?"

"Yes."

"_Yeah, ok_. Let me see your paper." He's looking at the mask. I take the notebook out _again_. This man is _really_ _bothering_ me.

"Here." I say as I hand the book to him. He snatches it out my hand and looks at the problems. His black beady little eyes are squinted, as he looks them over. As he bends his head closer to my paper the spectacles that hang onto his hooked nose look as if they're about to fall off. The light reflects off his shiny bald head.

"Did you use a calculator?" He is expecting me to say yes, but I didn't. His eyes follow the mask.

"_No_, I did it in my head."

He is astounded. His eyes open a little more and… could it be that this puny rat of a man has nothing to say? I think so because for a few seconds he is rendered speechless.

_Well Mr. Sark you weren't expecting that were you._

"What's your name?" His eyes reflect suspicion as he rubs his pointy chin.

"Erik."

The bell rings and people start to put their things away. "For _those_ who did not _finish,_ it's for homework!" Groans arise from the class but no one says anything.

I grab my book and slip it in my backpack. I walk out and take the crumpled paper out once again. Mrs. Perdok, science, room 172. The same thing that happened in the other two classes happened in this class as well. They stared and whispered… the _usual._

Christine isn't in third period with me though. Forth is a free period. I go to the school library and pick out a few books. I sit at one of the tables that face the wall. I start to read, Interview with A Vampire. I'm almost halfway through when the bell rings. I decide to borrow it. The librarian gives me an odd look but I just move on.

It's lunchtime. I _hate_ lunchtime. All they do is stare and make comments, which everyone can hear. It's been like this in all the schools I ever attended.

Even before the drastic change in my appearance they would _mock_ me with their eyes. Looking at my ragged clothes as a child, wondering why I had holes and stains on my attire. It was one of the other ways my parents _humiliated_ me…sending me off to school with clothes that were left over from the Salvation Army.

The other kids would _tease_ me mercilessly. They always had something to say about me. It got to the point where the teachers didn't really care what happened to me on the playground. The teachers failed to notice the warning signs. They just saw me as a problem child. My mother and father did not fit the typical description of the abusive parent. When they would meet with the teachers or child services they made sure that they were sober for a week prior to the meetings.

Mother would wear her dark blue slacks and a white blouse with a little daisy on the pocket. She made up her face and hair. Father would shave and comb his hair. He then put on a light blue dress shirt with black jeans. They would have their meeting… and come to the conclusions that I was just a child with issues. Mother even boasted once that she cried saying that, "They had tried their best for me and that I didn't appreciate their sacrifices." When the teachers mentioned the clothes and the bruises, my parents would say that I absolutely refused to wear the new clothes that their hard earned money paid for and that I would often hurt myself in order to get attention since they both had longer shifts at work.

The only one that did notice was the one that I didn't see all the time. In the forth grade I had a speech teacher named Betty Ander. Miss. Ander was the one who started to question me personally. She would just ask me how I got this bruise or cut. I always said I was playing when I got hurt and that it was an accident… she didn't believe me.

She then tried a different approach. Miss. Ander would let me express my feelings through art and music. While doing the speech therapy she would let me paint or draw. Often my pictures were of me flying away somewhere. When she commented on this I said that I wanted to be… _free_.

Since I was the target for bullying at lunch and recess, she would take me out of class right before lunch started and we would go to the music room. She then started to teach me how to play the piano. Miss. Ander knew I was never really proud of myself, so she felt that the music would help boost my confidence… It did to a certain point.

In the music room with her nothing else mattered. During that time with her I felt safe. For those brief thirty-five minutes alone with her there were no worries. There was no fear of my parents, they did not exist and I was able to forget what I am. I was able to forget that I am a worthless piece of shit that doesn't deserve love or attention from anyone…That I am lower than dirt… I am nothing.

_>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>_

Copyright © 2005 A. Ibarra All Rights Reserved

Please R&R. More to come on Erik's childhood but that's later on. The next chapter will from Christine's POV.


	5. IV

Thank you guys for your kind reviews. This chapter is from Christine's POV. Please Enjoy.

I don't own _The Phantom._

_>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>_

I think I'm going to _strangle _this fucking science teacher! He's so boring. Does this man have a life outside of science?

"So when you mix the peroxide-" He's talking to us about chemicals. Hello? It's the first day! You supposed to give us the speech about your standards and crap! I'm definitely going to be in La-La Land for the rest of the school year if he doesn't _change _his act.

I can hear the bell ringing in the distance. Thank you God! I thought it was never going to end. Everyone should be running for the door.

_C'mon people I haven't got all day!_

I unzip my backpack and take out my schedule. Yea! Lunch! I can't wait. Oh, crap what if Carlotta and her little group don't have lunch fifth period? We didn't get to discuss what period we have lunch. I _hope_ they have it with me. I hope that guy in the mask is not in my lunch period and if he is I hope he sits far away from me. What was his name? … _Erik! _

What a creep. Who wears a mask anyway? It looked like one of those latex skin masks that cover the whole face. The only holes that are in it are for the eyes and two little tiny ones for the nose. When he talks it looks really weird because the lips on the mask don't move. They're always in place.

_Speak of the devil… I can see him walking a few feet in front of me_.

He walks funny. His narrow shoulders hunched. His head hangs low, as his arms are glued to his sides. He takes super careful steps as if he might loose his balance any minute. His sweat jacket has moth holes in it, his sneakers are ripped up and his black jeans are beginning to fade

Erik feels my eyes on him. He slightly turns his head to the left. I know he can see out of the corner his eye. I realize we're both walking in the same direction. As we approach the cafeteria, the chatter from the people inside grows in volume. Erik walks in, then stops-

"Christine!" I hear someone yell. I look over to what section it came from.

"Over here!" Carlotta is waving her arms. Billy and her other friends are with her. I take a deep breath and walk over to them. The smell of the greasy fries makes me want to gag. I take a quick look back and Erik is still _just standing_ in the entranceway. Maybe they could give me the scoop on this guy?

"Hey." I say as I take the seat that Carlotta was patting with her hand.

"What's up? We like, thought you had lunch at a different period." Carlotta says.

"Yeah, me to. I didn't catch…" I motion towards the other girls. "…Your names."

"Oh, well this Ashley, Kate and Jennifer."

Kate is wearing a purple polo shirt and a ponytail off to the side a little. Jennifer has Barbie blonde hair and way to much mascara. Ashley is resting her chin on her hand. On her fingers are bright red manicured nails.

"Cool… Anyway I thought I was going to have to sit with _him_."

"Who?" Jennifer asks. Just then Erik walks past.

I nod my head in Erik's direction. "_Him_." Is all I, say. Her jaw drops a little.

"Hold up, you have classes with him?" Billy asks. They all look at me. The suspense is killing them.

"_Yes_, two of them and I have no idea if I'm in any other classes with him!"

"Eew! I feel so sorry for you." Carlotta exclaims.

"I know, like me too." Ashley squeaks as she blows a pink bubble with her gum.

"And that's not the worst part-"

"Oh my God, what?" Carlotta asks as she takes a bite out of her chicken wrap.

"My English teacher, Miss. Ross, made _me_ sit next to him."

"What a bitch! I can't believe she did that!" Kate says.

"_Tell me about it!_ She had us go up to the front of the class and say something about ourselves. Well after he went up and he was walking back, some guy stuck his foot out and tripped him." The laughter starts up.

"That is so funny!" Carlotta cries out.

"Wait I have more to tell you. He fell on my desk," Kate has tears in her eyes from laughing so hard. "When he fell he blocked his fall. Did you guys ever see his hands?"

The laughter died down. They were thinking.

"No, he always has' em in his pockets and in his sleeves. Why did you see them?" Ashley questions.

"Yeah! They're so weird looking! Ok see how like you have a nail on your first digit," I'm holding my pointer finger up to show them. "Well like it was missing and it was like that on all of his fingers."

"So he doesn't have any nails or first digits?" Billy asks with disgust in his voice.

I give one nod and they're all in eews.

"That is so gross!" Jennifer screeches. I chew on a piece of my tuna sand-which and give another nod in agreement.

"Oh, Billy tell her what we did to his car in March." Carlotta begs. Billy smiles and begins to tell me the story.

"He came in here in the beginning of March and we thought it was a little weird that this guy has a mask on his face. So naturally we asked him to take it off," he takes a breath of air and continues. "He said no and so we asked him again. This time he said ' Fuck off '. Well, we weren't having any of that. So Raoul-"

The name sounds vaguely familiar "Wait, who's Raoul?" I ask.

"Oh, that's right you haven't met him yet… Don't worry you'll meet him later after school." Carlotta explains to me.

Billy continues with the story. "Anyway, Raoul decided we were going to teach the freak some manners. So all of us cut tenth period and we found his car in the student parking lot." The other girls are already laughing. I can't help it and start to giggle a little too. "Raoul bought the silly string and soap and I got the eggs. We trashed his car! Aw, man it was so funny!" Billy bursts out laughing. I join in.

"Wait, so… " I take a break from laughing. " What happened-"

Jennifer interrupts "Oh my God, he totally like freaked out! He was so pissed! Now, he doesn't park in the student parking lot."

After a few minutes the laughter dies down and the bell rings. I put the sand-which container in my backpack and take a quick glance at the schedule. History is up next; hopefully this Mr. Dow will be more interesting then that loser chemistry teacher. We all head up towards the exit. Billy wraps his arm around Carlotta's waist and pulls her into one of those quick tongue kisses.

_I know what he's getting tonight._

I turn around and I see Erik standing in the back. He's waiting for everyone to leave. I go to the stairwell and climb up the stairs. Room 241... I pass several classes before I come to my history class. I go in and take a seat in the one the middle rows.

"Hello."

"Oh, hi. Sorry I didn't see you there."

"What's your name sweetie?" Mr. Dow said with a small smile.

Sweetie? What the hell? "I'm Christine Daae."

His finger runs down the attendance chart. "Aha, hear you are." He has a feminine tone to his voice. Maybe he's gay? No.

"Wow, that's a real nice top. Is that from Lord and Taylor?"

"Yeah it is. How did you know that?" I sound a little suspicious but he doesn't notice.

"I saw it there and I wanted one but unfortunately didn't have it in my size."

Yeah, he's gay. Um, what to say? "That's to bad. It would've looked good on you."

"I've been trying to loose some weight, so can get into other clothes."

He sounds like me. I like this teacher. A few more girls come in and he checks the chart.

Then Erik or what ever his name is walks in. Mr. Dow stares at his mask but recovers from it.

"Hi, there. What's your name?"

His eyes wander around the room. He looks at the different maps, and then the chalkboard and they rest on me.

"Er-Erik Devereux." He stutters. His shabby jacket is stretches as he shoves his hands deeper into his pockets.

"Well Erik, you can sit anywhere you want." Mr. Dow tries to sound cheerful.

_What do you mean sit anywhere you want?_

I hope he doesn't sit by me. That would be so annoying.

_I mean he already sits behind me!_

As fast as his slow ass can move he walks over to the back. There is a God! Thank you lord! More people come in and the bell rings.

"Ok, everybody! For those of you who don't know me I'm Mr. Dow and for those who have no idea what's going on, this is World History Two. I don't give out much homework because I give a lot of essays, tests and pop quizzes." He says with a little smile.

_Tests, pop quizzes and essays? I can tell this is going to be my favorite class…**Not**!_

I hate the class already. Who is that standing in the doorway? He's hot!

"Sorry to interrupt." A deep voice comes from him. He is wearing a dark blue polo shirt with the collar flipped up, a pair of fashionably faded blue jeans and on his feet are a pair of the new white and green Vans.

_Oh, baby you can interrupt anytime! _

"Who are you?" Mr. Dow asks in an annoyed tone.

"Raoul Changy. I got lost." He says smugly.

Hey, this is the guy Carlotta was talking about! Have I seen him somewhere before?

"Well take a seat than Mr. Changy."

"I would be glad to."

He looks around the room and his eyes stop on me. _Yes!_ He is so going to sit next to me. Raoul saunters over and takes the desk next to me. His body is perfect. Broad shoulders, muscles and he's great looking. His wavy blond hair falls into baby blue eyes. He pushes it back and smiles at me.

Mr. Dow babbles on for the rest of the period. I don't care about he's saying I'm to busy checking Raoul out.

Before I know it class is over. I get up at the same as Raoul does.

_Pretend to ignore him. Guys hate that. _

"Hey wait a minute!" Raoul calls. Works every time.

"Have I seen you from somewhere before?" He asks.

"I was going to ask you the same thing!"

"What's your name?" He asks sweetly.

"Christine Daae." I say in the same sweet tone. We're almost the last ones out of the classroom. Erik is the back of the room packing up his stuff and Mr. Dow is writing something on the board.

"The beach…Long Beach Island. You were with your dad and mom." He says remembering.

_Mom and dad… the beach. Oh yeah, Raoul!_

"Oh my God, Raoul!" We give each other a big hug. "Do you remember the sand castles we would make?" I can't keep the excitement out of my voice. I feel like a little girl who just found something that I treasured, that was lost a long time ago.

"Of course!" He seems happy.

Erik is coming closer to us. Were both standing in the doorway.

"Excuse me…" He says quietly as he edges closer to the door.

Raoul and I are both annoyed. "What is it freak?" Raoul asks as he rolls his eyes.

"Can you both please move?" He hunches his shoulder and drops his eyes to the floor.

"Sure we'll get out of your way. No, problem." He says in a supper nice voice. We both back out of the class. Just as Erik walks past, Raoul reaches out to take off his mask but does not succeed. Erik pulls away.

"Don't touch me!" He screams out. I jump back a little. Others who are walking in the hall stop and stare.

Raoul backs off and sniggers. "All right freak, no need to get upset." Erik ignores him and walks off.

"Any way, what class do you have know?" Raoul continues.

"I have a free period now but after I have chorus."

"Cool, me too!"

"Great! We do have a lot of catching up to do."

"Yes we certainly do. Come on, we can talk in the library." He holds out his hand to me. I take it with confidence.

Together we walk down the empty hallwayAs we pass by the classrooms I hear the teachers rambling on. My thoughts wonder back to Erik… Raoul brings me back with his smile. I give his hand a little squeeze and smile at him.

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Copyright © 2006 A. Ibarra All Rights Reserved

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Hope everyone enjoyed this. There is much more to come.


	6. V

I apologize for taking so long with this story

I apologize for taking so long with this story. I know this chapter is already up but I wanted to change some things. Again I'm sorry for the delay and hopefully I'll get ch.7 finished and posted soon.

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That_ bastard _tried to take off my_ mask!_

He was just trying to show off in front of Christine. I _hate_ him! I need to get out of here!

I walk swiftly down the empty hallway and go over to my locker. I open it and take out my cell phone. I turn it on and place it in my pocket. I pick up my sketchbook and slam the locker shut.

The one good thing about being a senior in high school is that after you attend all your basic classes you get to go home. I continue down the hallway until I reach the front doors. There is no one else outside.

_Perfect!_

It's cloudy out now. There are dark storm clouds covering most of the gray sky. The cell phone beeps, signifying that I have messages. I walk up two blocks and flip open the phone, dial in my pass code and listen.

"Hi Erik, I'm going to be late today, again. So don't worry or anything. Also there is food in the refrigerator that you can heat up. All right, see you later tonight. Bye."

That's Nancy Granger my foster mother. I was dumped on her one night after the social worker Mr. Arlyne found out my previous "_foster parents_" were dumping hot water on my already scared chest.

_Not exactly the best thing for healing skin._

Needless to say Arlyne was called and I was taken to the nearest foster home, Nancy's. She had no other children in the house which was a plus for me and she was and still is very nice, another plus for me.

When I turned eighteen in March this year, Mrs. Granger asked if I would stay. She asked_ me _a _depressed freak_ to stay in _her home. I couldn't believe it. _I stayed obviously due to the fact that I have nowhere else to go… and she does mean something to me. I don't love her or anything it's just that if the man upstairs gave me choice. Do want Nancy or this binge-drinking bitch to be your mother? I'd have to say Nancy.

There was a catch however. I would have to see a therapist and _talk_ to him not just sit there and think of how many ways I could kill the bastard… We'll we found one and I see Dr. Nadir Khan twice a week. Sometimes he really pisses me off but I know he's just trying to help… I think.

After deleting the message Nancy left me, I insert the key into the ignition. There are little droplets of rain that make a light tapping as they land on the roof and windshield of the car. I pull out of the parallel parking spot and drive down the quiet street. I pass by the park and go down six more blocks until I make a left turn onto Bender Ave. The rain is coming down harder now and the wind is picking up speed.

I pull into the drive way and turn off the car and look at the house for a minute. The white paint is starting to peel on the side of the house. I promised Nancy that I would put on a fresh coat when the spring came. I pull my hood over my head and reach for my backpack. Dashing for the front door and fumbling with my keys as rain pours down harder, I'm soaked.

Finally, the door opens. I flip the hood back, take off the mask and kick my sneakers off. I pass the cozy little living room, and walk into the kitchen. The house that I live in is comfortable. It has three bedrooms. Two of which have their own bathrooms. It also has a basement and dining room. I pull open the drawer and take out a dishcloth with two large red roosters sewed into it, gently drying the mask.

I feel warmer then usual since I don't perspire all that well and head up to my room. The wooden stairs creek beneath my feet as I go up the stairs. There are family pictures hanging on the wall that lead up to the first floor. Most of them are of Nancy and Bernard's parents with Sarah. Bernard and Sarah were Nancy's husband and daughter. I never asked too many questions about it just as I would not Nancy to ask about my life before living with her. I know they were killed in a car accident about a year before I was burned and she knows that I was an abused child, we don't ask each other the details on either subject.

The maple stained wood floor stops when it reaches the room… Sarah slept in here. My feet welcome the soft dark blue rug. I flip the light switch on and close the blinds. There are no pictures or posters decorating the bare white walls, just a flat top desk that occupies the space near the window and a dresser which has my wig holder on it. There is a desk lamp that has one of those strings that you pull so the light turns on and ceiling fan where else but the ceiling.

I carefully place the mask on my desk and remove the wig, placing it on its holder. Taking the comb I gently brush it to make sure no knots form. I take off my jacket and the long sleeve shirt. I try not to my eyes stray downwards because I can't stand the way my body looks. The hypertrophic scars cover most of my form, like a road map with lines crossing over each other. Somewhat flat but uneven and with the kelloid scarring that runs from my left breast to my armpit, a mountain range you can run your fingers over. Luckily I was able to retain most of my range of motion in my hands despite the partial amputation of my fingers.

I discard the rest of my clothes and put them into the hamper next to the wall. I take the towel that's hooked on the back of my door and go over to the bathroom that is connected to the room. It's not that big, just an average size. The wall is made up of white tiles with a little blue tile thrown in every now and to liven it up a bit. A clear shower curtain is in place over the shower.

I climb into the shower and quickly bathe… Not really into touching my self unless it's necessary. Every time I touch them I just feel that it's my fault that all this shit happened to me.

_Every thing._

From the first time my parents hit me - to when they would lock me in the closet for days on end- to when they set me on fire… I feel as though it was my fault.

_My fault._

In a way I believe I deserved it… I deserved it for being weak and not telling anyone what was really going on. No matter how many shrinks _tried_ to fix me up mentally, I still feel that I got what was coming to me.

After I'm done with the shower I dry off with gentle pats on my skin. No rubbing or scratching, I'm afraid that it might damage the skin grafting that has been done. Opening the door to the bedroom, my feet find their way back to the soft blue carpet. Before slipping on a pair of black cotton boxer briefs, I take a large gray jar with a white label out from my desk cabinet. It has the doctor's name that prescribed it - Dr. Malin… and instructions on how to use it:

**Step 1: Open jar with care.**

**Step 2: Scoop enough paste out to cover hand.**

**Step 3: Rub hands together and proceed to apply with care to parts of the body that need hydration or are irritated. **

All the directions are always the same with these things. Hopefully I won't have an allergic reaction again like I did with the last one. The other lotion I used made the scars swell and itch. This one doesn't seem to be irritating the scars. I rub it predominantly on my chest, hands and legs. After moisturizing my skin I get ready for bed. A pair of baggy gray sweat pants over my shorts and a one-size-to-big white t-shirt goes on over my head. It's not even four o' clock and I'm in my PJ's.

_Loser._

Its ok, right? I mean I don't have work today and I see Dr. Kahn tomorrow, there's no reason to go out… It's raining.

_Loser freak. Freak loser._

Shut up! Shut up! _They're_ not around Erik. _They're_ not here. _They_ can't hurt you.

_But they did._

_They_ hurt me so much but I deserved it. Yes, I did.

_You know you did._

Stop it! Go down stairs now and do something- anything! I'm hungry so I'll heat up some dinner… Sometimes when I'm not doing anything I hear _them_. So I need to do something, I can't just relax… wish I could though sometimes. No nightmares or thinking about the bad times. That would be nice… The good thing is I keep myself busy by being creative.

I write, draw, play the piano, I've even made my own songs. Lately I've trying to write an opera but that isn't going so well… I need to be inspired to do something big like that. Dr. Khan says it's my way of _coping_ with the abuse and stuff. That asshole takes everything I do and puts it all under the umbrella of the healing process. I can't just make something because it's what I've always wanted to do…_ kill joy._

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Copyright © 2008 A. Ibarra All Rights Reserved

_-They, them_ and _they're _refers to his parents.

Anyway I'm back on the ball with things, so I might re-write some previous chapters but I'll give you guys a heads up. Ch.7 is being worked on currently so keep an eye out for it and thank you so much for the kind reviews.

Please R&R this edited chapter…


	7. VI

Thank you, for the kind reviews. This chapter is form Christine's POV.

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"So how was the date?" Carlotta asks me as soon as she sees me walking through the doors of the school.

Let's see Raoul picked me up at about seven thirtyish in this sexy little sports car. Not the one he drove to school I might add. We had dinner at this little Italian restaurant called Tavern In The Park. _Very cute_ I think for a first date. It was so romantic, candle lit dinner with classical music playing softly in the background. He paid _obviously_, then we went to catch a movie but we really didn't _watch_ too much of it. What? Raoul was ridiculously good looking, more so then normal last night.

"It was a really _nice _date." I emphasize on the word nice.

Carlotta smirks at me, "You slut. What happened?"

We walk down the hall, "Nothing like that but there some serious-"

"Hey babe!" Raoul shouts as Billy and him walk over to us. He grabs my hips and pulls me in for a kiss. From the corner of my eye I see Carlotta give me a devious smile. The first bell rings. _Shit!_

I pull away slightly, "My class is on the other side of the building-"

"Aww come on sweetie just stay a little longer, besides it's only the second day the teacher won't mark you down." Raoul winks at me… I stay. "Did you tell them about our date?"

I smile up at him, "Yes I was starting to."

He looks over at Carlotta then back at me, "This Friday do you want see another _movie_?"

The second bell rings. _Fuck! _"Hey I have to go to class now, tell me what you want to do later."

The three of them walk off to class, which is justdown the hall_. Damn it_, I walk quickly to the other side of the school then go up the stairs. Which room was it? 203 or 205, shit! The third bell rings. 203, its 203! As graceful as I can be I walk in trying not appear frazzled by being late.

"Miss. Daae your late!", Miss. Ross announces. _Thanks_ for the update, _stupid bitch_.

Come up with an excuse. "I got lost-"

"No matter, you're still late my dear." What happened to the nice little mousy teacher she was yesterday. "Take your seat, please."

I move between desks and see that Erik guy looking at me. The mask is weird, an expressionless face… _nothing_. No wonder he's known as _the freak_ around here. "What are you looking at?" I whisper harshly.

"A girl who's late." He whispers back. The tone of his voice suggests that maybe he's smirking?

"Freak.", I hiss. He looks away…

Miss. Ross picks up a book from the pile on her desk and holds it up. "All right class we're going to start Othello by William Shakespeare as you all know." _Oh, joy._ She passes out a number of books to the people in the front of each row; they take a book and pass it back. "Please put your name on the inside cover and the number of this class room two-zero-three."

I hold out to the left side a copy of Othello but that guy isn't taking it. _What the fuck_? I turn back to face him and drop the book on his desk. He looks at it, then at Miss. Ross. "Excuse me but I have a copy of this at my house, Miss. Ross" He calls out. She looks at him in surprise. "Alright then just pass that one back. Make sure though that you bring yours everyday until were done." Erik nods his head in response.

I want to see his hands again but they're under the desk. "Give me the book." He shifts a little and brings his hand up… its covered with the sleeve of his sweat jacket. Carefully he pushes the book towards me and I stare at his cautious movements… _strange_. I take it back and pass it up. Miss. Ross goes on and on about Othello. The _love_, the_ passion_, the _deceit;_ Othello coming to an English class near you. Someone save me! The bell rings just as I'm about to cry from boredom. Erik brushes past me as I stand. What the hell? I told him yesterday to stay away from me but before I can say anything he's out the door.

The next class is… is… is math. That's the class with the little man that yells… _a lot. _I go downstairs and walk in. Erik is there in the back taking out some paper. The bell goes off again but I'm not late this time. The little Mr. Sark shouts. "Alright class, take out your homework!" What? Raising my hand, "We had homework?"

"Yes, why wouldn't there be any." He's not asking a question and I know he's _so_ not going to drop this, "I told you yesterday that if you don't finish the work in class then it's for homework. Now what's your excuse?"

I had _super hot date_. No, that won't work. "I didn't understand it."

"Well, then come back after school." I nod my head yes. Well I don't want him to go crazy on me. The class drags on but I do try to listen. The last thing I want is to do is spend more time with him then necessary. The bell rings, "Now don't forget to come back." Stark yells just as I'm about to leave the class. _Right_ got it. _Shut up now_…

Gym time. _Yeah!_ No, I hate gym. It sucks having to run or play a stupid sport all the while having some meat head teacher screaming about how your not doing it right and to make matters worse I have it at that _part of the day._ You know the time, where it's going to be noon and you know because it's getting warmer. Then you do some sort of physical activity for 30 minutes. I'm _sorry _but when I work out I do it in an air-conditioned room and then I shower, never walking around all smelly… _Besides_ my hair gets frizzy.

I change for gym since Mr. Nell made that _loud and clear_ yesterday. While waiting for the teacher to come to the gymnasium, I look around and see no one I can talk to. No one interesting… Then again this girl is doing some serious stretching. She keeps lifting one leg above her head and then reaches for it with one of her hands. I haven't seen anything like that since-

She seems cool. I've _seen_ her around before maybe she's in one of my classes. Walking over to her I notice that she's about my height 5'6 and has light brown hair. "Where did you learn to do that?" I can't help but ask, I'm curious; might end up being good gossip at lunch today.

She stops and looks over at me, I notice her looks rather petite despite her height. "Ballet class."

"Do we have classes together?" She thinks for a minute. "Yeah, cooking. Your Christine-Christine Daae right, I'm Meg Giry."

"That's right…so where do you train?" I wonder.

"At the Venus Dance Academy… Are you new here?" She asks as she fixes her ponytail.

"Yeah I just came from New York over the summer."

A big smile comes across her face. "Really that's where I used to live… well until I was one but my mom used to work at the Metropolitan Opera." There is a hint of pride in her voice.

I wonder if dad knew her. Aunt Charlotte has an old book of contacts from my dad when he worked there. They might have worked together at one point but I don't know, he only worked there for a year or two. "Where does your mom work now?"

"Oh, at the Venus Dance Academy as a teacher." Meg smiles again.

"What's your mom's name?"

She fixes her ponytail _again_. I think it's nervous habit. "Antoinette Giry."

I glance at my nails noticing I need to get a manicure when I think of something. "Do you have Mr. Sark?"

Her eyes become narrow with annoyance. "_Yes_, I had him last year for geometry. He's the _worst_."

I nod my head, "Yeah, I know he's such a pain in the ass."

"Wait until later in the year for his mid-term he puts in equations that he doesn't even teach." Meg makes a sound of being agitation. "I was so close to failing, you have _no_ idea. His teaching style sucks."

Our gym teacher Mr. Nell comes in blowing his whistle, he's ten minutes late. "Alright people line up in your spots. Let's line up and head outside. We're just going to walk around the track." Meg and I move to the double doors and continue on with our conversation.

"I know he writes down the formulas but doesn't explain it. I end up zoning out because he's _so_ boring… That reminds me I have to see him after school."

She rolls her eyes. "_Good luck_ with that. Sark is only going to confuse you more. I ended up having to get a tutor, he was really great though"

Hopefully I wont need a tutor. "Who was he?"

She's a little startled by my question. "Oh, um… Erik Devereux-

"You mean the guy with the mask." This wasn't a question.

Meg reaches for her hair fixing an un-messy ponytail. Her answer is quick, trying to defend herself for hanging out with someone like him. "My mom works with Nancy, his foster mom." He has a _foster mom_? No, _parents._

Meg goes on, "When she found out I was failing, she told my mom that he tutors. So we were able to work out a schedule… he wasn't that expensive… he usually charges fifty an hour but he only charged me thirty-

I raise an eyebrow. "What did you _do_ for him?"

Shaking her head and making a face of being disturbed by the innuendo I just made. "Nothing, it's just that my mom is friends with Nancy and we all know each other… sort of."

This turned out to be a _very interesting_ conversation. I don't think I'll tell the guys at lunch about this though; I wonder what happened to his _real parents_?

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Copyright © 2008 A. Ibarra All Rights Reserved

See I put a drop of compassion in Christine's heart.

I don't know who's POV I'm going with in the next chapter. Leaning towards Erik's but I'm not sure yet. Anyway thanks again for the reviews.


	8. VII

Hello everyone. Just finished this one up; we Dr. Nadir Kahn for the first time. Anyway, just to let you guys know I updated the Prologue a bit. Hope everyone likes this chapter.

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Dr. Khan or rather what I call him Nadir sips his tea and smiles at me. It's genuine like Nancy's smiles. I really don't like talking to him though or any doctor for that matter but if I just think of him as Nadir then it's a tad easier to answer his questions. "So how was the first day of school?"

There's a notebook on his desk but at least he doesn't write everything I say down on the paper. "I don't know… ok I guess."

He straitens his collar, "Anything interesting happen?"

Rolling my eyes I answer, "_What _like I got some chicks number and I'm going to see her tonight." _Why_ does he always think something happened to me?

He clears his throat and stares strait at me. "Sometimes talking to you is like pulling teeth."

I nervously shift around in my seat. The staring_ is_ rather annoying. "Can we talk about something else?"

"Fine by me. What do you want to talk about?" There's silence after that. I haven't the faintness idea as what to discuss with him. "I don't know." I can't focus on anything today. Tilting my head back I look at the ceiling and notice the paint chipping off in some parts. "You know you should really have that fixed. It's not good for business letting your place fall apart."

"The painters are coming tomorrow… Something is on your mind Erik. What is it?" Instead of answering his question I stick to the paint. "Are going to keep it the same color, _vomit green_."

"Something happened at work today?" No comment on the paint.

"I think you should paint it… I don't know maybe some variation of blue?" My head lolls forward and my eyes focus on him. Nadir fiddles with his pen and writes something down.

"So what's really on your mind, Erik?" I've noticed that he uses my name in the sentence directed at me when he wants to talk on a more serious note.

Nadir knows what's _really_ bothering me. God damn it he's good. "Nothing, _Christ_ what is it with you!"

Nodding his head, he scratches down a few more notes. "You're mad. That's good-", I cut him off "How the hell is that good?"

He continues with his reasoning. "You bottle up your emotions. That's not good."

My stomach tightens into a knot, I feel like vomiting. "I'm not supposed to feel anything."

"Would your parents tell you that Erik?" He sounds sympathetic and I hate it.

_Yes. _

"No." I whisper.

Clasping his hands. "We were talking about your parents a couple of weeks. Do you want to talk about them now? Is that what's bothering you?" Nadir leans forward waiting a response.

"No, I don't want to talk a-about them." Shifting uncomfortably in the overstuffed chair, my eyes wonder to the floor.

_Shut up. Shut up. Shut up._

"Every time I mention them your speech impediment comes back. What did they do to you?" I don't know if it's a rhetorical question or if he_ actually_ expects me to answer that. I stand up and move to the door. "We still have thirty minutes Erik."

My hands tremble. "I can't do this today… I-"

"Look Erik I want to help you but your not letting me. If you don't want to talk about them that's, fine."

Facing him I lean against the door and slide down to the floor. It was the nightmare I had last night. It had been so real. So horrifyingly real that I had almost wet my self, imagine trying to explain that one to Nancy.

"I've never really spoken to anyone about it. I just start remembering the things they would do and I feel… this w-wave of…" I trail off not knowing how to put into words the rage and fear I still feel.

_Not supposed to feel._

"That's why you're here, to get over the fears you have. You can't hold those things inside you. _No one_ should… What's your first memory?"

Breathe just breathe, Erik. "Darkness… it was always dark in the room."

"Where was the room?" A mixture of concern and interest lace his words together.

Leaning my head against my knees, I close my eyes. "I don't know. I can't-can't remember anymore." It's only a memory.

_Memories only memories._

"Anything else?" Nadir's voice is in the distance, fading out.

"The cigarettes… they would blow the smoke in my face. Then burn me with th- them and laugh. They would always laugh... I _hate_ cigarettes." The memories were back again. Leather straps cutting into my writs and ankles. Stretched across the mattress only in my underwear and they were _laughing_ because I was crying.

_Weak I'm so weak._

Asking… begging for them to stop. My father's, belt breaking my skin. The stench of urine seeping into the bed… Terrified of what they would do next.

A hand touches my shoulder and my hands go up ready to ward off any blows but they never come. Instead Nadir is crouching by me with an expression of worry on his face. "I-I'm sorry. I di-didn't mean to-," but I never finish. He helps me up and walks me over to the chair. I never had a break down like this in front of anyone.

A glass of water is held in front of me but I shake my head. Nadir sits down himself and while taking some more notes; he voices his opinion on my _parents._ "Listen I think you need to talk a little bit more about your parents. I don't mean to push you but this is not health-"

Embarrassed by my outburst; I want to leave. "What time is it? I have to go." Again I go to the door and again his voice stops. "Erik it's not your fault. The things _they_ did were monstrous-,"

"Look I really have to go." And with that I'm in the reception room, down the hall and in my car. It's not safe but I speed home. I just want to hide. Crawl in hole and never come out. As I pull up to the house I see Nancy's little Toyota Camry in the driveway.

_Act normal._

"Hi, Nancy." I sound cheerful.

She comes out from the kitchen. There's an aroma of garlic and lemon juice in the house. We're having chicken tonight but I've lost my appetite. "Hi, Erik. How was school?"

Act normal. "Good." She smiles, "You went to go see Dr. Khan today rite?"

Nodding my head. "Um, yeah-yeah I went."

She moves back to the kitchen. "Hey we're having chicken-,"

"I-I'm not very hungry now." Scratching my arm nervously. I need to get up stairs. She frowns. ", It's your favorite though. Maybe later then?"

Later as in tomorrow but I don't tell her this. "Yeah, but I have a lot of homework tonight so I better get started-,"

"Don't let me hold you up. Tell me how work was later." Nancy gives another smile before going into the kitchen.

As soon I cross over into the bedroom I snatch the pillow off the bed and scream into it, so as not to disturb Nancy. Pulling off the mask I wipe away the few tears that escape from my eyes.

_Weak_.

Crying isn't going to _change_ anything. There's no point in it; it's not going to erase what happened.

_Control yourself! _

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Copyright © 2008 A. Ibarra All Rights Reserved

I don't want to give away too much on Erik's childhood. So it'll be snippets, no major flashbacks yet. So you met Dr. Nadir Khan and Nancy. Hope you guys liked it. Please review.


	9. VIII

Hello everyone! I'm sorry for taking so long. School and work take up lots of time. Hope to update soon. Thank you all for the kind reviews/constructive criticism. Any way enjoy, this from Christine's POV… I've updated chapter II (just some grammar issues, still not perfect though) Anything major I will let everyone know.

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I got you now sucker._ Oh!_ Plucking eyebrows can be such a chore. As I place the offending hair in the garbage Aunt Charlotte shouts up me. "Christine, come down here!" She doesn't sound too happy.

"I'll be there in a minute!" Answering back to her, I want to finish my eyebrows they've been getting on my nerves lately plus, not being able to make an appointment at the salon was _extremely_ annoying. The receptionist was like there are no available times at the moment blah, blah-

"_Christine_, come down here now!" _Oh, boy_ what's the matter now? So much for finishing my eyebrows. I make my way down the stairs and into the kitchen. "What is _this_?" She sounds very mad.

"I don't know _your_ holding the paper." It's irritating when people are holding what ever the subject is then ask what is this, when you have absolutely no damn clue as to what the hell is going on.

Aunt Charlotte squints, her eyes at me and glares. This is not good. "This is the interim report for _your _grades-,"

I roll my eyes, "And your point is-,"

"Don't interrupt me," She takes a deep breath; sometimes she's _so_ over dramatic. "The school year has just started and you're failing some very important classes."

"Oh that it's only the beginning of the year. I'll get my grades up." She _seriously_ has to chill it's no big deal. I was just having some fun.

Aunt Charlotte folds the letter and puts it on the counter top and starts to cook the steaks that are in the pan. At least she's calm again; she really gets worried for no reason. Her voice still holds some agitation in it. "I know it's only the beginning of the year so," She trails off; the sizzling of the steaks becomes louder as she flips them over. "I made sure you're going to stay on track… so I called up a tutor."

"What! I don't need a tutor!" I can't believe this. It's only the end of September.

She quickly reaches for two plates and places a steak on each one. "I spoke to the teachers and they told me that you have trouble with the work in class and you don't do your homework." She hands me the plate but I'm not very hungry after hearing this _wonderful _news. Then she ladles in cream of mushroom soup into a blue bowl that matches the plate.

"This is not fair!" I can't believe she called a tutor… "Wait what tutor?" Please god; tell me she did not call that guy.

She sits down and dips the spoon into her bowl. "Erik Dev-,"

"Aunt Charlotte, no he's a total weirdo!" With a huff I sit. She can't do this to me.

Rolling her eyes, "_Oh_, Christine please he sounds like a very nice young man plus Antoinette told me that he helped Meg and she highly recommended him."

If the guys at school find out that _he's_ my tutor… I don't even want to think about it. "He's a total _freak_-," She shoots me a disapproving look. "What? He _is_! First off he wears a mask, ok. Then he has no finger tips and the skin on his hands, is like-,"

She stops eating. "Listen to your self; do even talk to this boy?"

I scoff, "Aunt Charlotte, that's social suici-,"

"If you have nothing nice to say about someone you shouldn't say it at all." Sometimes she can be _so_ old school. With that she starts to cut her steak. So far I haven't touched anything.

_Stupid_ Antoinette! Why did I introduce them? _Yeah_ they knew each other alright. Through dad that is. I didn't know this but my father had worked at the Metropolitan Opera before I was born and they met when he was there. They were friends then; well more like acquaintances really; there was some Christmas party and so family was invited and that's where they met. They lost contact when dad died how ever but Aunt Charlotte was excited when I told her about this girl named Meg and that I thought Meg's mother had worked with dad. So she looked up the name and yes Antoinette Giry was in his old contact book.

Information was dialed and a lunch date was made; _of coarse_ I was dragged along. They caught up on things and spoke about dad… Antoinette told me how wonderful he was as if I didn't know that… All his songs are on my iPod. Before I go to sleep I listen to a different one each Sunday night… On Sundays we would spend the whole day together. I miss him still-

"Erik will meet you in the public library at six o' clock tomorrow also on Wednesdays." Aunt Charlotte stands to clear away her plates. My date is tomorrow!

"No! I have a date with Raoul at eight. I need time to get ready." There's a party Friday night, every one will be there. I have to go!

"I want you to concentrate on school. Until your grades improve by a land slide no more dates with Raoul during the weekdays." My stomach drops in serious disappointment.

"Tomorrow is a Friday! It's considered part of the _weekend_!" She is really on my last nerve.

"People have to work on Fridays that means it's a business day, which means it's a week day. You're not going on any dates until as I said before your grades improve dramatically." Aunt Charlotte walks into the living room and I follow her. This is not over! I have to get out of this… She never met this Erik! What if he's a killer or a rapist? Not that he is but still it's a valid point. "You _never_ met him. What if he kills me! My death would be your fault because you forced me to meet him." I smirk with pleasure at my new tactic.

She laughs, "Christine sometimes you're so… I don't know what. Listen I told you before I spoke to him on the phone and Antoinette has known him for several years-,"

"Yeah I know Antoinette said he's great, who cares! If you saw him you wouldn't be so quick to send me off two times a week with him." Why couldn't that Giry woman just mind her own business?

Grabbing a book Aunt Charlotte sits on the couch and starts to read. "You're going tomorrow so stop complaining and go eat your dinner." She flips the page and continues reading. "Don't judge people by their appearances…" I hear her say to me as I walk back into the kitchen defeated for now.

There's no sense in arguing with her tonight. This sucks I have to call Raoul and tell him I can't go. He's going to be so disappointed. _Ugh!_

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So that was that. Hope you guys liked it. Most likely the next chapter will from Erik's POV.

Copyright © 2009 A. Ibarra All Rights Reserved


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